


Best of the Greeks

by TorturedTadtoples



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles fixing his mistakes, Achilles goes back in time, Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Epic quests to find ones mother, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, POV Achilles, POV Patroclus, Set during the Trojan War still, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Will add tags as I go, a very confused Patroclus, gods and mythology, rating could change at some point, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-13 08:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14745122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TorturedTadtoples/pseuds/TorturedTadtoples
Summary: When Thetis strikes a deal with Kronos- father of Zeus and god of time- Achilles finds himself taken from the underworld and back to the time during the plague outbreak.Now with a second chance to make things right as well as a mother to save, Achilles sets out to truly become the greatest hero of his time.





	1. Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> I have started this story because I am still torn up about that ending and need a time travel fix it fic to help me through it.  
> I've enjoyed writing this and hope you all enjoy it too :)

Finally.

He heard it before he felt it. The hum in the air as his death comes to greet him. In a way, the pain made him feel more alive than he had since he burned Patroclus’ body, something physical to wake him from the numb despair that had characterised his life since he saw his _Philtatos_ engulfed by flames.

He smiles then, as his face hits the dirt.

_Finally._

_Patroclus._

_***************_

He watches them perform the funeral rights and burn his body. He watches his mother stand upright, watching his body burn without tears and without a trace of mercy in her eyes.

_‘I am done. There is no more I can do to save you’_

His mother had said to him in her rage. But Achilles knew his mother, knew her like no other mortal could- perhaps more than any being, god or man. He knew her as much as she could be known with the cold distance she kept from the world and the rage she kept stoked within her heart.

He knew his mother, and he knew that she was breaking apart. The only thing holding her together was her anger. Every time he had rejected her offer to go live with her in the sea caves, every time he was pulled further into humanity with his love of Patroclus, his mother would be devastated. The only way she knew how to deal with that devastation was building upon her rage, feeling offense instead of hurt.

After she was done speaking with Odysseus he looked at her. He was so close, he wanted to reach out to her, though he did not have the limbs to do so. He wanted to speak with her-apologise for not being the son she wanted, that he was not worth her suffering. He wanted to rage at her- why did she have to be so unbending? why was he never good enough? why couldn’t she have just been happy with who he was? Patroclus was the only one who never needed him to be anything else but himself.

‘ _I am glad that he is dead’_

He does not try to speak with her.

*****************

He is growing impatient for the dark relief of the underworld, to walk those endless fields with his love by his side when he sees him for the first time.

“I am the son of Achilles”

There he was. The thought that haunted him, that wormed is way into his thoughts before he would go to sleep at night. The entity he tried his hardest to pretend did not exist. His son.

It was like gazing into a pond to view his warped reflection. The child looked so similar to him, with a few differences-possibly from his mother, though he can barely remember her face- and had his own mothers cold bearing, that subtle way that he stood that communicated that he was above all others in the room. He wished he never would have had to know what his son looked like.

He had always tried to forget his time with Deidamia, the nights he spent with her and the horrible feeling he had after he laid with her- like a crawling underneath his skin, a dread, some sick sense of violation that he could not shake off and a desperate need to be with Patroclus again. He did not want a son and he never had. All he ever wanted was to be with Patroclus.

“A slave has no place in his master’s tomb. If the ashes are together it cannot be undone, but I will not allow my father’s fame to be diminished. The monument is for him, alone”

It shouldn’t have taken him so long to understand what those words meant. He was still so struck by the sight of his son that he did not pay attention to the words he spoke. When it hit him, it hit him all at once- just like when he lost Patroclus the first time, it all came crashing down in a wave of grief and anger.

_NO, NO, NO!_

He rages and he screams, fury and despair rose in him- he had not known it was possible to feel so strongly, so horribly in this detached half-life he found himself in.

He yells and he begs, he threatens and pleads. But it is not enough. It was never enough in life and it was even more futile in death.

Beneath his rage, beneath his panicked desperation a horrifying realisation blooms within him.

_I have doomed him. I have again been the cause of my beloveds undoing. And this time I have forsaken his soul._

Every decision he has made, every action- Patroclus has suffered for it. If he had not demanded their ashes were placed together Patroclus would be waiting for him in the underworld. Now he will be doomed forever to wander as a shade.

He wondered if he was still paying the price for his hubris, if the gods saw fit to prolong his suffering into eternity. Waiting in the cold and empty afterlife forever for the one soul that will never arrive.

“Very well,” Agamemnon says, “It shall be done as you say”

_My love, Philtatos, I am sorry- please. I am so sorry._

_**********_

I watch in despair as they build my monument. The greater the man the greater the monument.

_This is what I died for, this is what Patroclus died for. White marble on a lonely hill._

It had all seemed so important to him before death, His legacy, his honour.

It was nothing. Everything that he needed, he already had.

 _I threw it away_ he thought, half hysterical _for a white marble monument covered in glorious depictions of the worst times in my life._

The atrocities he had committed in his grief-stricken madness. That was his legacy. His grand reward. Nothing of his true life was depicted on his monument. There was art showing his slaughter of Hector, his slaughter of the young boy Troilus. But nothing of Mount Pelion, where he had been his happiest or his blissful childhood in Phthia. Nothing of himself was in that monument- it was as though it was dedicated to someone else.

Worst of all, there was no Patroclus.

He wanted to laugh. Every action depicted on that monument- every murder, every battle had been an attempt to end his life. An attempt to bring him closer to his reunion with Patroclus. Now, this monument would be what kept him them apart, for eternity.

Every chip in the stone that was made to spell out his name felt as though he was being chipped at. It was torment. Soon, he would be gone, to a place that Patroclus could not follow, a hollow eternity filled with nothingness.

A

This very moment he had waited for has become his deepest dread.

C

Though his shade longed for the afterlife, knew this world was no longer meant for him, he wanted to stay.

H

Somewhere, unreachable to Achilles, Patroclus’ soul also resided near this tomb.

I

Though he would not be able to feel him, just that knowledge, that connection to him would be better than the fields of the afterlife.

L

Why had the gods done this to him? His son had tried to preserve his honour by excluding Patroclus from the gravestone. Time and again it came back to that. He thought he was willing to give up anything to preserve his honour and in the end, it had taken from him the one thing that he had never expected it to. The one thing that had mattered.

L

Hadn’t he suffered enough for his insignificant honour? Hadn’t Patroclus already suffered enough? Maybe the gods didn’t want to punish him, or teach him a lesson.

E

Maybe all the gods really wanted from him, from any mortal- was to provide entertainment for their endless, idle lives.

S

_Patroclus_

***************

The underworld was cold.

He did not know how he knew that. He had no body to feel the chill. But it was cold.

Shades passed him, some he knew. Hector was here. Agamemnon. Even Pyrrhus.

Not Patroclus. Never Patroclus.

Time stretched by like a dull haze. Time does not exist here, not for most other shades.

But for Achilles time did exist. Time was the absence of Patroclus, the moments that he was not by his side. Time here moved torturously slowly for Achilles. It was a never-ending torment.

It was in one of these moments, one of these endless moments that was identical to the last and would have been identical to the next when he felt it.

The tugging.

It was gentle, hardly there but it startled him beyond reckoning. There was no sensation in the underworld. Not for a shade, and even this gentle pull was like being yanked by rope behind a chariot.

As if in answer to his hazy thoughts he was suddenly _pulled._ Sharply and swiftly his shade was taken from the endless fields and before he could even get his bearings he found himself hovering over a dark pit.

He had no lungs but the air around him seemed to choke him. He had no eyes but he looked around desperately hoping to find something, anything that wasn’t the ominous darkness of the pit.

There.

He didn’t realise it before but the pit had an edge and at that edge was her.

_Mother_

_Hokumoros_

She called him by his old nickname, that affectionate and bittersweet moniker. Her swift fated boy destined for greatness, destined to die.

If he had eyes he would be weeping.

_Mother, mother how are you here? What is happening?_

_It is alright my child, my golden son. Don’t I always come save you when you need me? Isn’t your mother always here for you?_

_What do you mean._ He is confused now, she is looking at him like he is a miracle, like she is seeing him for the first time. Not as the god she imagines him to be or the disappointing human she reviles. But as himself. Her son.

_My boy, my child I have missed you. Good luck. And be wiser this time._

She smiled at him, a bittersweet thing- though he has never known her to truly smile. Before he can question, before he can go to her she disappears.

_Mother? MOTHER?_

It is not his mother who answers.

**It is done.**

The voice comes from the pit. The knowledge comes to him at once. The name of the being of the pit.

Kronos.

**Thetis, daughter of Proteus has bargained for your second chance, Achilles, son of Peleus.**

_No, bring back my mother. What have you done? What has she done?_

**The bargain has been made and you cannot undo it. Thetis will remain. You will go back.**

_Back where? What do you mean? Give her back! The gods will not take kindly to your meddling._

A deep laugh. Loud and deceptively hearty.

**Back to where only I can take you. Back to the point before fate tied a noose around your neck for you to hang yourself with.**

And with that, Kronos, god of time, sent him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are love <3


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much happens in this chapter but I wanted to give these two a big emotional reunion scene. So here it is!

Five dead. Ten on their way to being so. None of Chiron’s remedies had worked and now the Myrmidons were dying before he could even treat them.

In front of him was Anytos- he had been treating him monthly for a recurring skin condition. Dead now, his skin warped and pock marked by the plague, face twisted and almost unrecognisable. Beside him was Kleitos who had a small family with Astera, the second of the slave girls to be saved by Achilles. He had delivered both of their children, he would have to be the one to tell her of her husband’s passing. Of all the parings that had cropped up in the Myrmidon camp, theirs had been the most loving.

Most days he did not feel his age, he felt too young to be in this man’s body he inhabited. But today he felt so old, bones cracked and body aching. He was so weary and the sun had only just risen.

He shook himself out of his morose mood and focused on the matters at hand. He needed help to build the pyres, to gather herbs and- though he hated to think it- section off those who were ill. Looking to his tent he decided to wake Achilles, he had been curiously still this morning, when Patroclus rose out of bed he did not stir when he removed himself as he usually would, his body was strangely ridged in sleep though his breathing was even and temperature was normal. As he made his way to the tent he resolved to check on Achilles health before asking for assistance.

 He made his way quickly to the tent now, trying to ignore the beseeching looks from hollow eyed men as he passed.

_Do not ask me to save you. I do not know how._

“Achilles are you awake?” He asked as he opened the tent flap, perhaps Achilles could help gather the herbs Chiron had told them were effective against fevers, he looked towards the side table where he kept dried plants before turning fully towards Achilles.

“We have-“

Achilles was standing in the middle of the tent. Face paler then he had ever seen it, eyes riveted on him, wide and unblinking.

“Achilles?”

No response. More staring.

“Are…Are you well?”

He frowned. Something was wrong with Achilles- a sudden fear shot through him. What if it is really was the plague?

Before he was conscious of his actions he had made his way across the tent and had pressed his hand against Achilles’ smooth forehead. He had no way of predicting the reaction that garnered him. All at once Achilles unnatural stillness was broken, he came to life beneath his hand- A sharp gasp was ripped from his throat, body jerking back like he had been struck, tripping over the bed furs and stumbling down.

Achilles had never stumbled before. Not ever in all the time Patroclus had known him.

His eyes were wide and before Patroclus could speak, they filled and overflowed with tears. His breaths came faster and he face contorted with pain. Patroclus could not bear it. He could not bear to see that devastated expression on a face that he held so dear. He fell to his knees in front of Achilles and wrapped his arms around him. He muttered soothing words as he stroked his golden head, letting Achilles weep into his neck.

Eventually his weeping stopped and Patroclus tried to pull away. But he was stopped by two arms locked around him like bronze bars. He could not move even if he wanted to, so secure was the hold Achilles had him in. He moved his fingers back up to his hair, stroking back the golden strands.

“Warm” It was uttered so quietly, so softly that he would not have heard it if they were not already so close together.

“You’re…so warm. So warm _Philtatos”_

Despite his worry, despite his own heart breaking for Achilles pain he could not help but freeze at that word. _Philtatos-_ Most beloved. His heart bloomed within his chest. _Philtatos_. He savoured the word, turned it over in his head and stored it away to be taken out later, like a precious item.

Before he could respond Achilles lifted his head and finally locked eyes with him.

_Oh_

The expression there in his face…the way he looked at him. Patroclus had never doubted Achilles love for him. It was there in every moment, every small touch, every word. But the way he looked at him now…like he was the most important creature on this earth, like he was precious and cherished above all else. One hand slowly moved from his back, though the other wrapped more securely around his waist to compensate. The hand travelled up to his face and hovered for a moment above his check, almost indecisively.

 _No, not indecisive. Hesitant, disbelieving._ He did not know why Achilles was so hesitant to touch him, only that it was true.

The hand slowly moved to touch his cheek, softly like he was delicate, like he would break at any instant. Patroclus quietly thought that it was not himself that was the most breakable of the two at the moment.

“Patroclus, my Patroclus you are here” He said softly, as though in a trance.

“Will you…will you forgive me. Please…forgive me”

I did not know what he asked forgiveness for and in his current state I knew I could not get answers from him so I simply said, “Anything, of course, I will forgive you anything.”

His eyes focused on my lips then, his head moved forward slowly- like he was being pulled towards me. Instinctively I stayed still, letting him come to me.

He was so close now, I could feel the heat radiating off him, the warmth of his breath. We had kissed hundreds of times but I still felt nerves in my stomach, a sense of anticipation that ran through my body. And then he pulled away.

His head was turned away from me so I could not read his expression, I would have thought he wanted me to leave if not for the hand he kept on my wrist.

His voice came, ragged “ I-I cannot. I am sorry. Not-not yet.”

I could not stop myself from speaking anymore “Please Achilles, tell me what has happened? What has made you like this? Has Agamemnon done something? Did something happen on the battlefield? Please, just let me know!”

He shook his head, that pained expression still on his face. He brought my hand up and kissed it once, then twice, then one more time before he simply held my wrist again.

“I-I will tell you. I will tell you soon. I just, I want to delay. I need to go to my mother. I must find some answers to what has happened. If she is not there…one of her sisters will answer me. They will have the answers.”

I nodded. “Of course. If that is what you need then go to her, then please come back so that I may help you”

He nodded as well.

I waited for him to leave. To let go of the grasp he had on my wrist.

Nothing.

“Achilles…”

“Yes?”

“My wrist?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course”

He did not let go.

Another moment of silence.

“Would you like me to come with you?” It cost me much to ask this, Thetis and I had ever been at odds- I would be happy to never see her again. But I could not abandon him. Not when he looked so lost.

Achilles looked down at where his hand met my wrist and gave a short nod. He moved to leave the tent and I stopped him.

“Achilles, let go of my wrist at least. The men will talk.”

His expression hardened a fraction. “I will not. I do not care what they think. I will not let go”

“But your reputation-“

“Patroclus. Please. Do not speak to me about my reputation just…please. I need this”

 _I need this_.

I have never been able to deny him anything he needs. This time is no different. I nod silently and allow him to lead us to the shore.

*********

We waited there on the shore for the better part of the morning. I was worried, we had a plague to attend to. People were dying and sickening and we could not spare the time to wait for Thetis.

Underneath this, there was a growing sense of dread. It had never taken more than a few moments for Thetis to appear when I wanted to see her, I know it would take even less time for her to appear before Achilles. Yet here we were, still waiting.

Before I could speak, break the tense silence or try to remove that awful, hopeless expression from his face, his head snapped in the other direction- eyes focused on something he noticed quicker than my human eyes could.

I tuned as well, a figure was standing there. She was a nymph. But she was not Thetis. She had the same black eyes, perhaps some of the same features but it was hard to tell. While Thetis’ face was always twisted in an expression of anger or disdain this goddesses face looked almost…open. As open as a goddess could be.

“Achilles” Her voice was like soft, rolling waves.

“Eulimene. Where is my mother?” Her face faltered. 

“I…I was hoping that you would know, since you asked for a meeting at such an unusual time. We were in the sea caves, tending to the boy when she…well she faded. That is the only way I can explain it. It was like she slowly bled out of existence but the strangest thing was that it was as though she did not even notice. She had been combing out her hair and she continued to do so until she was simply gone. “

Achilles expression tightened further.

“There is something you need to hear. Something you both need to hear. Then Eulimene, I will need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I began this chapter in Achilles POV but stopped half way. I may eventually post up the scene as an extra but for now you get Patroclus POV :) Also next chapter will probs be Achilles POV  
> Weirdly enough there will be some humour in the next chapter  
> Stay tuned next time for: A meddling god (feel free to guess which one) and a creative solution to the Achilles/Agamemnon dispute.  
> Thanks for reading and also Kudos/Comments are love!


	3. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, I am going to stop giving previews/hints about the next chapter because every time I keep underestimating how much I'm going to fit in one chapter. Please disregard any previews I gave last chapter XD.  
> In this Chapter- events are set into motion and Achilles make a decision.  
> enjoy!  
> P.S- please ignore the end note. Its a weird AO3 glitch where my original end note from the first chapter appears on the latest chapter I posted -.-

In the end, he did not tell his full tale. He could not bear to tell it yet, did not want to see Patroclus’ face when he revealed how heartless he had been, how his coldness had ended Patroclus’ own life.

Instead he simply told them that he had died and described what had happened in the underworld.

He could feel Patroclus slip his hand into his own and squeeze it tight but he kept his eyes on Eulimene, not wanting to be distracted from his purpose.

 “I do not know what happened to my mother, only that it has to do with Kronos. I am a mortal, only a goddess such as yourself can hope to find out what happened to her.”

Before now Eulimene had been focusing on his story with a steely expression that was so unlike her usual carefree demeanour. At his last statement her face formed into a frown.

“I may be a goddess Achilles, but you know as well as I do that I am only a nymph. I cannot hope to know the purposes of the greater gods, let alone the titan Kronos.”

Achilles nodded. He had thought of this already.

“Not directly, no. But this is a matter to do with time and Kronos. I remember my mother telling me once, of the minor goddess sisters that he had fathered. Perhaps through them you could glean understanding.”

She frowned again “You mean the Horai?” The goddess of the hours of the day. Each held dominion over a single hour, from sunrise to sunset.

He nodded again. “Please Eulimene, you loved my mother well. If the Horai do not know what has happened then they will most certainly know the way to find out. All I ask of you is to find information, that is all. I will handle the rest.”

It seemed as though his words were finally able to crack through her hard expression, her face softened into her usually open countenance.

“I- I will do what I can _Hokumoros_. Your tale… I believe what you say. Do you realise that the feel of you has changed?”

Her question confused him. “What do you mean by changed?”

“I cannot say. It feels as though you have been cut away from the fabric of the world and put back without being sown in again.”

Her words were unsettling. He was tired of his life carrying bad omens and unsolved mysteries that would only be unravelled at the last, horrible moment.

“What does this mean for me? What will it affect?”

Eulimene sighed. “I do not know yet. It will be revealed in time. For now, I will leave you and I will go to the Horai. Perhaps I will approach Hesperis first.”

 “Be well and be safe Eulimene”

“I will be in contact soon, once I find information. Farewell” with that she disappeared into the surf.

Achilles gathered himself up again and was about to suggest to Patroclus that they head back to the camp when he became fully aware of the body beside him.

Uneven breaths, a hand trembling within his own.

_Oh no, Patroclus._

What had he been thinking? He had just described his death in front of Patroclus, the event he had been dreading for the past ten years. Of course he was handling it badly. Without a word he turned and pulled him into his own body. He held him close, feeling that glorious heat pressed up against him, and allowed Patroclus to take comfort in his arms as Achilles had done earlier.

_You will be alright this time. I swear it._

******

When they got to their tent that night after a day of building pyres and chopping wood the first thing Achilles did was gather half the blankets and throw them out of the tent.

Patroclus paused in his lecture about how the work would have gone much quicker that day if Achilles hadn’t insisted on constantly holding his hand to watch him move through the tent with the blankets.

“Should I even ask why?” he asked softly

Achilles shook his head, flashes of memories- of Patroclus’ cold, lifeless body wrapped up in those very blankets, laying motionlessly by his side at night.

Patroclus nodded in understanding. He would push for answers eventually, but not now. Achilles was grateful. He pulled Patroclus close almost leaning in for a kiss but then the memories hit him all at once.

 _Pale skin, blood on his face_ \- _cold, he’s so cold. My fault. It was all my fault._

He pulled back, ignoring the hurt on Patroclus’ face. Not tonight.

 

****

It was time.

The tenth day of the plague.

How many times had he gone over this day in his head? Endlessly since he first saw his beloveds body hidden by a white sheet. Every detail, What he had done wrong, how his pride had gotten in the way had been examined and re-examined without mercy. This was the day he had confronted Agamemnon about the plague and his refusal to ransom the girl.

Who could have known that his lamentations would have an actual benefit? That it would help him decide what to do now that he had a second chance at life?

What he wished for, more than anything was to grab Patroclus and set sail back to Phthia, back to Mt. Pelion, anywhere really. Anywhere that they could live out their lives in peace.

But Achilles had made his choice long ago. As Kronos had said, the strings of fate had tied a noose around his neck and he would not escape it.

He had decided, during these past eight blissful nights with Patroclus asleep in his arms that he would not run from fate this time. The last time he had run from fate it had cost him everything. It had cost him Patroclus.

He understood now, that the gods had a will and they would see it done. If he tried to fight it, if he tried to delay or cheat fate as he had done the last time, they would exact their revenge in the most painful way possible.

No. He had to fight and kill Hector. He had to meet his death.

This time, Patroclus would not be a casualty of his hubris. He would live out a long and happy life, then when his time came he would be burned and would have his name inscribed on a gravestone. He would go to the underworld where Achilles would await him and they would have an eternity together. This was his goal now, this is what he would fight for till death.

It pained him to give up the warmth of life so soon after he had regained it but he was determined. The first thing he had to do was deal with the plague.

This again was something he thought carefully about. He could not ignore it- Patroclus would be devastated by the casualties and they could not rally their armies until the plague was accounted for. It also gave the benefit of buying time till Eulimene got back, so he could figure out the situation with his mother before confronting Hector.

On the morning of the tenth day he strode up to the agora as before- Patroclus at his side and the Myrmidons at his back. He climbed upon the dais and yelled for every man in the camp to gather.

Exactly as before Agamemnon shouldered through the crowd and demanded “What is this?”

And so, Achilles began his script.

“I have gathered the men to speak of the plague. Do I have your leave to address them?”

In considering how he would undertake this second encounter he decided to stick as close to what originally happened as possible. He did not want to introduce any new variables- none that were not essential in changing the fate of Patroclus- he did not want to find himself in a completely new situation that he was not prepared to handle.

He made his speech, keeping his tone confident and easy as he had last time. The priest was called and he made the declaration that it was the refusal to ransom Chryseis back to her father that caused the plague. Agamemnon got angry at the crowd and at Achilles, as planned.

“I do not mean to dishonour you. I only wish to end the plague. Send the girl to her father and be done”

Agamemnon was furious. “I understand you, Achilles. You think because you’re the son of a sea-nymph you have the right to play high prince wherever you go. You have never learned your place among men.”

And so it begins, the unravelling of Patroclus’ fate. Achilles tried not to grin and opened his mouth.

“You will be silent” Agamemnon said, “or you will be sorry.”

He remembered how enraged this made him the first time, how it piqued his pride and blinded him to reason. It continued on, the accusations, the anger until-

“I think we have indulged your arrogance long enough. It is time-past time- that you swore the oath.”

Here is where the script will change. The great play put on for the gods will not develop the way they intend.

He omitted his original prideful response _I am here of my own free will, and you are lucky that it is so. I am not the one who should kneel._ He almost cringed at how it sounded in his own head. He will not make the same mistake of hubris that turned the men against him the last time.

Instead he said “I will not kneel before a leader who puts his own desires before his men. You complain about sacrifices? That is the cost of leadership, a burden you took on voluntarily. You have not earned my respect, I will not kneel.”

The men around them muttered, not against Achilles this time but in agreement with him. A part of Achilles, that prideful part that basked in his own glory was pleased that he had won the crowd. He pushed it down and continued.

Agamemnon was enraged and he acted as predicted.

“Then you are a traitor to this army and will be punished like one. Your war prizes are hostage, placed in my care until you offer your obedience and submission. Let us start with the girl. Briseis, is her name? She will do as penance for the girl you have forced me to return”

Instead of getting angry at this blow to his pride Achilles laughed, loud and clear for everyone to hear. He could see the shock on the faces of his fellow kings and princes from the corner of his eye, stunned at his equanimity over such an insult.

“No.” He said simply.

“I do not fear you. I will have her.” He turned to the Myceneans. “Bring the girl.”

Achilles turned towards the Myceneans as well.

“Good luck trying to take her from me” He flashed a grin that was all teeth and ruthlessness. He had said all he needed to, he jumped from the dais and headed toward Patroclus and their camp. Before he departed he called over his shoulder-

“Make sure to return the girl to her father” and with that he was off.

This time the day will not end with Patroclus’ devastated anger, harsh words and rash actions. It would be the beginning his plan.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, next chapter will switch to Patroclus POV and will likely stay that way because I have no idea how to consistently stay in Achilles head. that boy is a mystery.  
> Tune in next time for a very confused Patroclus and a very clingy Achilles.  
> Also please hit me up if you know someone willing to beta/are willing to beta.  
> Cheers! (Also comments are love)


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